Chapter 4 - The Vengeance of the ElitePeace within the Dantis estate was never built to last.
Two weeks after the incident at the Crystal Ballroom, the political fallout hit like a tidal wave. Julian Dantis, stripped of his titles and cast out of the syndicate’s financial inner circle, had fled to the rival Moretti syndicate—the brutal Italian-American crime family that controlled the shipping docks on the south side of the city.
Desperate for a weapon against Aleandro, Julian had traded every internal security blueprint, ledger backup, and corporate vulnerability he could steal.
It was a declaration of war.
Midnight on a Tuesday.
Daisy was working late in her fourth-floor office, surrounded by financial spreadsheets and audit reports. Aleandro was downstairs in the subterranean armory reviewing security protocols with his core team of capos.
Suddenly, the overhead emergency lights flickered from white to a harsh, pulsating crimson.
Wooo-wooo-wooo.
The automated security Klaxons began to wail throughout the compound. Heavy steel blast doors slammed shut across the lower corridors, sealing off the wings.
Before Daisy could even stand up from her desk, the heavy oak door of her office burst open.
Three armed mercenaries wearing tactical black gear, ski masks, and suppressors on their submachine guns poured into the room. Their leader, a scarred veteran bearing the Moretti syndicate tattoo on his neck, scanned the room with cold eyes.
“There she is,” the leader barked, raising his weapon. “Julian said she’s the one holding the master keys to the offshore accounts. Grab her. If she struggles, put a bullet in her leg.”
Panic seized Daisy’s chest. Her breath caught. She scrambled backward, her hip slamming against the heavy mahogany desk as the men advanced toward her with terrifying speed.
Before the leader could take another step, a dark, furry missile launched from the shadows behind the filing cabinets.
GRRRRRR-ROOOOWL!
Bruno hit the lead mercenary squarely in the chest with the force of a battering ram. The heavy tactical gear saved the man from being ripped apart, but the sheer impact sent him crashing backward over a glass coffee table, shattering it into a thousand glittering pieces. His weapon flew across the room.
“Shoot the damn dog!” the second mercenary screamed, raising his submachine gun toward Bruno.
Daisy’s maternal, protective instinct—fierce and unthinking—erupted inside her. Without hesitation, she grabbed a heavy, bronze bookend off her desk and hurled it with all her might, catching the second mercenary squarely in the helmet, throwing his aim off just enough as he pulled the trigger.
Clack-clack-clack!
Bullets chewed into the wooden paneling inches from Bruno’s ear.
The third mercenary lunged forward, grabbing Daisy roughly by the arm, twisting it behind her back with brutal force. “Stop fighting, you fat cow, or I swear to God—!”
The insult didn't even finish forming on his lips.
The doorway behind them seemed to instantly drop in temperature by twenty degrees. The air was sucked out of the room.
Aleandro Dantis stood in the doorway.
He wasn't wearing a tuxedo tonight. He wore a heavy black tactical vest over a dark turtleneck, and in his right hand, he held a suppressed Sig Sauer P226 pistol. His face was a mask of pure, unadulterated, apocalyptic fury. He looked less like a mafia boss and more like the Angel of Death.
“You touched her,” Aleandro whispered. His voice was so quiet, so dangerously devoid of human emotion, that it made the mercenaries freeze in their tracks.
“Boss Dantis—wait, this is just a message from Moretti—!” the mercenary holding Daisy stammered, pressing the barrel of his sidearm against Daisy’s temple.
Aleandro didn't negotiate. He didn't blink.
Pfft.
A single, suppressed gunshot echoed through the office.
The mercenary holding Daisy dropped instantly, a neat crimson hole planted between his eyes, his grip loosening as he collapsed to the floor like a sack of wet cement.
Daisy stumbled forward, shaking uncontrollably, gasping for air.
Before she could hit the floor, Aleandro was there. His strong, steady arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her effortlessly against his chest, pulling her so tight there was no space left between them. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his chest heaving with adrenaline.
“Are you hurt?” Aleandro demanded, his voice trembling slightly as his hands frantically checked her arms and shoulders for injuries. “Did they touch you?”
“I’m—I’m okay,” Daisy choked out, tears finally breaking free as she gripped the fabric of his vest with white-knuckled desperation. “I’m okay.”
Aleandro turned his head slowly toward the remaining two mercenaries, who were now backing away toward the smashed window with terror written all over their eyes.
May you like
“Tell Don Moretti,” Aleandro said, his voice dropping into a lethal purr, “that he has forty-eight hours to hand over Julian Dantis. After that, I am going to burn his entire empire to ash, starting with his family home.”
The mercenaries didn't need to be told twice. They dove headfirst out the shattered fourth-floor window into the safety net of the courtyard below.
